“You’re always curious.” I stand up, not knowing how to answer his question. I haven’t seen my mother in a long time. I have no idea if she’s still pretty.
Cameron takes both of our cereal bowls and brings them to the kitchen sink. He turns, leaning against the counter.
“What do you want to do now?” he asks. It’s not even flirtatious. It’s just a question, and I miss the dirty jokes. At least that way, we’re not pretending there isn’t tension.
“Is there anything fun to do here?” I ask.
“I have a pool table downstairs.”
My mouth opens. “You have a pool table?”
“Yep.”
“You are such a rich bastard.”
“Does that mean you want to play?” he asks.
“I’ll play.”
He seems to like that. “Let’s go, then.”
Cameron walks to the staircase in the corner of the kitchen and goes down to the basement. I glance around, surprised that I can feel this comfortable here. It could be because we have something to do, but I know that it’s him. He makes me feel this way.
I run my fingers through my hair, smoothing it and pretending that I belong. I descend the stairs and find Cameron already at the table, racking up the pool balls. He looks up at me.
“Does your brother have red hair?” he asks.
“No.” I’m distracted by the basement—the low-hanging amber light, the old-timey vibe of it all. There’s a bar, wood paneling, and a giant-ass pool table.
“You want to break?” he asks, holding out the cue to me.
I shake my head. Cameron leans over the side of the table, taking aim at the white ball. He slides the stick between his knuckles, looking outrageously hot as he concentrates. There’s a loud noise when he breaks the triangle, and it startles me out of my daze.
“You’re stripes,” he says, walking around the table to get an angle for his next shot.
“Oh. Okay.”
He takes aim. “You probably should’ve gone first,” he says.
“Why’s that?”
He makes another shot. “Because I’m pretty good.”
“How do you know I’m not good?” I ask.
He flicks his gaze to mine. “You’re good?” he asks like he doesn’t believe it.
“I could be.” I’m totally not.
Cameron misses his next shot on purpose. “Well, look at that,” he says. “It’s your turn, Sutton.”
He walks over to my side of the table, stopping a little too close. He holds out his pool stick. Cameron’s hair partially covers his eyes, and I want to brush it aside. I want to kiss him. Instead I take the cue from his hand.
“Thanks,” I whisper, backing up and rounding the table.
“I can teach you how to shoot if you want,” Cameron offers, following me with his eyes.
“No. I’ve got it.” I don’t even know how to play. But I try to copy the way he holds the cue between his knuckles. The stick won’t stop wiggling and I miss the ball on the first try. My face warms with embarrassment.
Cameron laughs. “Here,” he says, “let me just show you this one thing.” He holds out his hand and I give him the cue. He models it for me. “Now you try.”
I honestly wasn’t paying attention. I try but can’t quite get it. Cameron comes to stand behind me. He puts his hand over mine, setting the stick between my knuckles. He rests his chin on my shoulders and helps me aim. His arms feel nice around me.
We stay like this a moment too long, neither of us moving. He has to be able to feel my heart racing, or at least notice that my breathing is erratic.
“Now you hit the ball,” he says softly, letting go of me and backing away.
I exhale, the stick shaking in my hand, my legs a bit weak. With as much effort as I can manage, I smack the white ball with the stick and send it soaring across the table and back, completely missing every other ball on the table. Cameron cracks up.
“Nice,” he says. “I bet you hustle all the guys down at the pool hall.”
“Do they even have pool halls anymore?” I ask.
Cameron shrugs. “Hell if I know.”
We both smile now that the moment has passed. That intense, stomach-churning moment is gone and now I can relax. This is fine. It’s okay for us to be friends like this, a little flirty. This won’t hurt me. And I was right—he’s the perfect distraction.
I hold up the cue, letting myself stand closer to him than normal. “Your turn, smartass,” I say.
“Keep talking, Sutton.” Cameron brushes his fingers against mine as he takes the stick. “You’re lucky I didn’t suggest strip poker.”
And I am. Because I’m even worse at cards.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cameron and I are waiting in front of my house, sitting in his Beamer. A couple of neighbors look as they walk by, checking out his car. But Cameron doesn’t appear nervous. It’s strange. If I were here with a BMW, I’d keep the doors locked.
“What time does the bus come?” he asks.
I look at the clock. “About ten minutes.”
“So you probably didn’t need to rush me, then?”
Earlier, Cameron had asked if he could take a nap. He even said I could join him and that it would be totally innocent. But I told him that we’d oversleep. Not that I thought we really would. But I knew that us together in his bed might involve some kissing. And kissing might involve other things, things I can’t let myself feel.
I made him leave his house an hour earlier than necessary, but he’s here waiting. I have no idea why he’s waiting. And I have no idea why I’m letting him.
“Your mom doesn’t live with you, does she?” Cameron asks.
I turn to him, feeling uneasy. “Why do you think that?”
“You haven’t mentioned her. Plus . . .” He chews on the side of his lip. “You seem to be the one taking care of your brother.”
I swallow hard, trying to hold his eyes, but I can’t. I look out the windshield. Ashamed.
“No,” I say. “My mom doesn’t live here.”
“Where does she live?”
My eyes sting, and I twitch my nose to keep from crying. “I don’t know.”
Cameron’s silent for a second. Then, “What happened?”
I want to glare at him and tell him to fuck off, but I can’t. Instead I feel darkness sweep over me, suffocate me, and it’s hard to breathe. He’s making me deal with things I want to avoid. He’s making me dig in to the pain.
“One day I woke up and she was gone,” I say, my voice low. “The car was gone. Clothes. Rent money. She took all of it.”
“But she didn’t take you,” Cameron says like it’s the most tragic thing he’s ever heard. “Why did she leave?”
“I don’t know. Maybe my dad. Maybe Evan. Me. Take your pick.”
“It wasn’t you.”
I want to believe that. I want to believe that my mother loves me. That she just got overwhelmed but now hates herself for leaving. I used to believe that she could still come home. But she never did. And now it’s too late to forgive her.
“She left me,” I say. “She left Evan. We still needed her and she didn’t care. I don’t know if she ever did.”
“I’m sorry,” Cameron whispers.
“Me too.”
“How long has it been?”
“Two years.”
“That long?” I can hear the edge in Cameron’s voice and I like it. I like that he can be angry for me. “How could she just abandon you guys?”
“It’s so hard,” I say, staring straight ahead and hating to admit it. “With Evan, it’s really hard sometimes. There are days when I don’t know what to do, and on those days, I want to run away like she did. I want to disappear.” I stop. I need to shut my mouth; leaving isn’t an option. “Never mind.”
“What about your dad?”
“What about him?” I ask. “He started drinking after Evan was born. And then once my mom left, he got worse, kept losing his
jobs. He was never Father of the Year or anything, but he wasn’t always like this. We weren’t always like this.”
“And now?”
“Now? Now I can’t stand him. He wants to give my brother away. His own son, and he wants to give him to my aunt Kathy to raise. But he can’t. Evan’s mine, too.”
“Why would he do that?” Cameron asks.
“He says he can’t handle it, but I’m the one who does it all. I do everything. And I’ll keep doing it because Evan’s my brother. I love him.” I look at Cameron, wanting him to know me. Wanting him to know what he’s getting into. “Evan is all I have.”
I push my hair back from my face and watch Cameron. The way his eyebrows pull together in concern. Like he cares about me.
“I sometimes think that if my mom would have stayed, Evan would be better,” I say. “That he’d be okay. I hate her for that. I hate her for doing that to him.”
“I’m sorry,” Cameron says. He reaches to swipe his thumb across my cheek, letting it rest on my jaw as he holds my face. I’m crying. Damn. I’m crying in front of him. He leans toward me.
I turn away and look out the window. He was going to kiss me. I almost let him kiss me. I shouldn’t have told him about my family. He isn’t supposed to know things like this. I can’t do this.
“Hey,” Cameron whispers, but I don’t look. “If your mom had a coffeepot, I’d piss in it for you.”
I laugh, turning to him. “You would?”
“Absolutely.”
And we stare at each other, a new comfort stretching over us. An intimacy that only sharing secrets can bring. Quiet, comfortable.
“Now that we’re friends,” he says, “do you want to go to a movie or something?”
“I don’t go to the movies with my friends.”
“No?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“What do you do, then?” He looks amused, even pleased that I let him call me a friend.
“We go to 7-Eleven,” I say. “Get chased by crazy bitches through a cornfield.”
“I’m all for the adventure,” he says. “But I thought maybe we could try something less violent. Maybe something with popcorn and armrests.”
He’s adorable. I straighten in the seat and look toward my house.
“I have to go,” I say, not really wanting to.
“I know.” Neither of us moves.
“Thanks for . . . the ride and the cereal and everything,” I say.
“No problem. Thanks for letting me beat you at pool.”
“You’re an ass,” I say. “Okay, for real this time. I’m going. I’ll see you at school.”
“You sure you won’t come see a movie with me?”
I want to. I want to be that girl with a hot guy, sitting in a theater, eating popcorn and making out in the back row. “I can’t,” I say. “I have Evan tonight.”
“He can come.”
“No.”
Cameron exhales, shaking his head. “Maybe another time, then. Have a good night, Sutton.”
That’s it? He isn’t going to argue more? “Okay . . . bye,” I say, and open the door. I feel rejected, even though I’m the one who said no. Even though I’ve been the one pushing him away.
I walk to my front porch and sit on the stairs, waiting for Cameron to leave. I wish I said yes to the movie.
Evan’s bus turns down the street, and I jump up to meet it. I glance at Cameron, who’s still waiting in his car.
As the yellow bus pulls up, Evan is in his seat, his face pressed to the window. When the door opens, he races down the steps.
“Savannah!” he calls excitedly.
I look at the bus driver, but she shrugs, letting me know he’s been keyed up the entire ride. It makes me happy, seeing him like this.
“What’s up, buddy?” I ask. Comforted by his gentle touch when I take his hand.
“I made you something. It’s here in my bag.” He lifts his backpack, nearly tripping with his excitement.
“Thanks,” I say, fixing the buttons on his jacket. I’ve decided not to tell him about Retha and Travis being gone. It might make him think of our mother.
“Who’s that?” Evan asks, pointing toward the street.
I turn to see Cameron’s BMW still at the curb. His eyes widen when I notice him, and he starts his car like he’s about to take off. He’s so damn curious.
“It’s my friend,” I tell Evan. “His name is Cameron.”
“Hi, Cameron!” he yells, and waves.
Behind the windshield, Cameron’s mouth opens in surprise, and then he waves back. Evan loves the attention.
“Do you want to meet him?” I ask, squatting down next to my brother, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes. He needs it cut; I’m embarrassed I let it get this long. “He has a really nice car.”
“Can I ride in it?” Evan asks me, wide-eyed.
“No. But we can go look at it if you want.”
Evan pulls my hand in the direction of the Beamer. Cameron rolls down the passenger window and cuts the engine.
I stagger behind Evan on the sidewalk, but he drops my hand when we get to the door and pokes his head inside the window and squeals.
“Savannah!” he yells back to me. “He has a TV in here.”
I smile. He’s actually talking about the GPS, but I’m not going to correct him. I walk up behind him and bend over to rest my palms on my knees. Cameron meets my eyes for a second before looking back at my brother.
“Hi, Evan,” he says in a tone that isn’t at all condescending. I like that. Usually when people find out Evan has a disability, they talk to him like he’s stupid.
“Hi, Cameron,” my brother says to him. “You have a really nice car.”
“Thanks.”
He’s looking at my brother so completely normally that I ache inside. All I want is for people to treat my brother this way.
“Do you like video games?” Cameron asks him. Evan hangs half inside the window, pushing buttons on the dashboard.
“Yes!” Evan shouts, even though he’s never played one before.
“Cool.” Cameron nods. “Me too. But after I got in trouble my mom didn’t let me play them anymore.”
“Savannah got in trouble too,” my brother says. The comment digs me—I wish Evan didn’t need to know about that. At least he doesn’t know why. “Can I play the video games?” Evan asks.
“Sure. You want to come over?” Cameron offers.
“Yes!”
“No,” I respond at nearly the same time. Cameron takes the hint.
“Tell you what, big man,” Cameron says. “I’ll let you borrow my system. But you have to be really careful with it.”
Evan nods frantically, and then turns to grab the bottom of my shirt. “Cameron is going to let me play his games!”
“I heard,” I respond, looking into the car. “What a nice guy. I wonder why he would do something so generous.” I narrow my eyes, and Cameron opens his mouth and touches his chest like he’s offended that I think he has an ulterior motive.
“Because he’s your friend,” Evan says, shaking his head. “Friends are nice. Retha is nice.”
There’s a sharp pain at the mention of Retha, but I force a smile.
“Yes,” I say. “Retha is nice.” I look back in the car. “Cameron’s sort of nice too. When he’s not being a manipulative asshole.”
“Hey,” Cameron says. “Don’t swear in front of your brother.”
“Shut up,” I say.
“That’s not very nice either.”
“Yeah,” Evan says. “That’s not nice, Savannah.”
I resist the urge to flip Cameron off, and instead, duck inside the window.
“Are you really going to bring him video games?” I whisper. “Because he gets really fixated on things, so if you were just fucking around—”
“I’m going to bring him my Xbox. I don’t use it anymore.”
“Have you outgrown video games or something?” I ask.
�
�Hell no. By the time my mom gave it back, I already got a new system.”
I shake my head. “You rich bastard.” I turn to Evan and find him watching Cameron, anxious and excited. It worries me, scares me to want too much. “I don’t need your charity,” I say to Cameron.
“It’s not charity,” he replies seriously. “And it’s not for you. It’s for Evan.”
I pause a minute, knowing Evan deserves something fun like this. I can’t afford to give it to him. So I nod that it will be okay.
“Can I come by later and drop it off?” Cameron asks. His hand is lying palm up on the passenger seat, like he hopes I’ll reach down and take it.
“Um . . . my dad will be here in about an hour,” I say. “He doesn’t let people come over.”
Cameron’s face softens and he brings his hand back into his lap. “What if I just drop it off?” he asks. “I won’t come in or anything.”
“Savannah,” Evan says, holding on to the bottom of my shirt, stretching it out. “I want video games.”
Cameron and I stare at each other, and there’s a lot going on, but nothing being said. He’s taking care of me and I’m letting him. I want to let him, even though it makes me grateful and sick at the same time.
If I could, I’d take Evan and we’d jump in Cameron’s car. I’d make him drive us somewhere far away.
But I can’t do that. I have nowhere to run.
I smile softly at Cameron. “I’ll come outside at eight, if you want to drop it off.”
He nods, then glances past me. “Hey, Evan. I’ll see you around, okay?”
“Okay, Cameron. Bye!”
Evan’s so happy to have met someone new. I want to hold him to me and keep the moment forever. This innocent thrill. Just us.
Cameron drives away, and Evan and I watch after him until I feel my brother’s little hand slide into mine.
“He has a nice car,” Evan repeats.
“Yeah,” I say, looking down. “He’s a good guy, too. Not like most of the assholes I bring around here, right?”
Evan shakes his head. “That’s not a nice word, Savannah.”
I smile. “You’re right,” I say, pulling him toward the house.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At seven thirty I put Evan to bed and clean the kitchen. I called Retha for an update, but she hasn’t gotten in to see Travis yet. My father’s in the living room, drinking a beer. I’m not allowed to bring people around. The only exception is Retha, and that’s because she intimidates my father. Even Travis isn’t allowed in the house. I slip out the back door.
All in Pieces Page 12
